A Lonely Saturday Night
by Michael C McPhee
Summary: Ever since Cora and Derek left, Stiles has been feeling down. Scott's never around, Lydia's with Aiden and Allison is busy with Isaac. So Stiles decides that he's going to spend a Saturday night visiting his Mom. But he finds someone else at his mother's grave.. A certain Hale. Rated T for swearing and teenage drinking. Stora story.


**Story Summary: Ever since Cora and Derek left, Stiles has been feeling down. Scott's never around, Lydia's with Aiden and Allison is busy with Isaac. So Stiles decides that he's going to spend a Saturday night visiting his Mom. But he finds someone else at his mother's grave.. A certain Hale.**

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Stiles, alas, had nothing to do on a Saturday night. It seemed like he never had anything to do on a Saturday night anymore. There was no Scott to watch movies with, no Lydia to call him in the middle of the night about a dead body. No Derek to randomly show up in his room through the window to bug him about something. And no Cora for him to have deep conversations with about the people they know.

Ever since the fight with the Darach ended, things had become painfully normal around town. There were no plots, no sneaky plans, no alpha packs running rampant. Nothing supernatural for Stiles to help to deal with. Oh no. Now Stiles just sat alone, at his computer, playing World Of Warcraft. It was a guilty pleasure of his. He felt more powerful in Azeroth. More in control.

Things had been different for him and he felt it. The _darkness _that Deaton had told him, Scott and Allison about before they became pseudo-sacrifices for their parents. It encased his heart, clawing at it and trying to tear away what made Stiles Stiles. What made him who he was, what gave him his personality, made him care. It was trying to take that away from him. Take Stiles away from himself.

He had managed to fight it before. He would look at Scott or Isaac or Lydia and it would remind him of who he was. Of the things he had done, the people he had helped save. But lately, Stiles had become an outsider looking in. During the Darach fight he was useless. It had taken him forever to figure out where the Nemeton was and, worst of all, all his friends parents, including his own father, had almost died because he crashed his Jeep into a freaking tree. Who did that?

So he could feel it. The _darkness_ was coming closer and closer, starting to rip chunks off. He didn't smile as much anymore. He was prone to snap at anyone who tried to get close to him. His dad had no idea what was going on and, as much as Stiles hated to admit it, he couldn't help himself. He couldn't stop himself from feeling like this.

There was only one person who had ever managed to make Stiles feel better when he felt as terrible as he was now. His mother, Claudia. So that's where he was going. He had loaded up his backpack with beverages (alcohol), sandwiches and brownies. A bouquet of flowers sat next to it. He picked them both up and quickly headed down the stairs. He slipped his sneakers on and, instinctively, he grabbed the metal bat that now sat by his front door before heading to the Jeep.

He drove to the cemetery with the radio turned up as high as it possibly could. In My Veins by Andrew Belle was pounding against the windows, though it couldn't really pound anything. The song was soothing and calming, exactly what Stiles needed right now. He needed to keep himself calm and not angry.

_They don't care about you, you know_. _They're moving on and leaving you behind._

Stiles shook his head, keeping his eyes focused on the white pattern in the middle of the cement in front of him. He hated these voices in his head, the _darkness_. It told him things he didn't want to hear, things that made him want to cry. But he wouldn't. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

_Scott, Allison, Lydia, Isaac, Danny.. They've all found their place. They're a pack. They don't need you Stiles. No one needs you. Derek and Cora left without a second's hesitation and, since then, you haven't gotten a single text. A single call. Face it, Stiles, you lost your place. You're not part of the pack._

Stiles could feel the familiar stink of tears in his eyes, but he didn't blink them away. He just stared straight on as he turned the Jeep into the cemetery parking lot. He threw his backpack on, grabbed the bat and flowers and began the walk.

He walked through the lanes and lanes of graves, trying to keep himself from looking at the names. He didn't want to see who these people were. If he did, he'd begin to wonder what they had done in their lives. Who they had left behind. Was there a son? A daughter? A lover? Each grave held a story and it was a story that Stiles couldn't bear to hear.

He knew exactly where his mother's grave was. He had visited it enough. Everything about the walk to it was familiar. Each step felt the same as the last. He closed his eyes and took a long breath as he rounded the corner, heading for the row in which his mother had been laid to rest. But he caught a flash of something in front of his mother's grave as he turned. Long, straight, sunkissed light brown hair.

"Cora?"

She turned to look at him so fast you'd have thought he just said he was about to take her to play a game with his friend Jigsaw. Her eyes were feral and he could see the first signs of werewolf whiskers poking out from her cheeks. But, when she saw who it was, she visibly relaxed and Stiles released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, rising to her feet. She patted off some of the dust that sat on the knees of her dark blue jeans before doing the same with her leather jacket.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that question?" He replied, taking a few steps forward. "You're the one sitting in front of my mom's grave, after all." Cora pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and, despite Stiles disbelief, she looked _nervous._

"I was visiting my mother," Cora began, gesturing to a section of graves far in the distance with a tilt of her head. "I was walking back to meet Derek when I noticed. . . How come you never told me?"

Stiles shrugged in answer to her question and placed the bouquet of flowers on top of the grave. His mother would have loved them. They were all bright and brought life to this place of death. "It never really came up." He answered simply. He knelt down in front of the grave and touched his fingers to it, letting them run down the cool marble. _In loving memory of Claudia Stilinski. A loving wife, a wonderful mother and a friend to all._

"You and Derek are back, huh?" He asked her, turning his eyes to hers. Cora shook her head.

"Not for long. He just brought me here so that I could visit her one last time." Stiles nodded and, from the way she looked at him, he knew the disappointment was evident on his face. Her usually angry expression became one mixed with concern. "Are you okay, Stiles?"

"I'm fine," He said, reaching into his bag for the bottle of Jack Daniel's. The sight of the bottle made Cora's eyes widen. "What? I'm a teenager. Teenagers drink." He unscrewed the cap and, without hesitation, took two long gulps of the acidic liquid. It burned at his throat and made his eyes water, but he could instantly feel the warmth in his stomach.

"Yeah, but I've never seen _you _drink." Cora sat down next to him and, without asking, swiped the bottle from his fingers. He was about to complain but she didn't give him the chance. She took a deep sip of the alcohol before putting it on the grass. "I never took you for the alcoholic type."

"Sometimes it helps," Stiles said and reached for the bottle again. Cora held it just out of his reach, frowning at him. "What?" He asked, trying not to sound too annoyed.

"I'm not an idiot Stiles. Something is wrong and you're going to tell me what it is."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'll punch you right in front of your mother and I don't think you want to deal with that embarrassment," Cora said, her brown eyes daring him to argue with her. Stiles just rolled his and dropped his arm in resignation. "Good. Now talk, Stilinski."

"Have you ever felt like an outsider? Like you just don't belong with the people who you're supposed to call your closest friends?" He asked her, his voice filled with hurt. Cora's intimidating glare instantly softened. "Because that's how I feel ever since all this crap with the Darach happened. Scott's a True Alpha now. He's got shit to deal with, that I get. But Lydia, Allison, Isaac, Danny? All of them don't have time for me anymore. They just prefer hanging out with each other than with me and it really sucks. Now give me the freaking alcohol." He snatched it from her hand and took four gulps this time.

"Stiles, you can't honestly believe that," Cora began, but Stiles wasn't in the mood to let her finish. In fact, he wasn't finished yet.

His head turned to hers so fast it made her jump. "You and Derek are included in that too. I mean, you guys left like two months ago. Two months is plenty of time to call. To text, hell, write a letter! Anything to let me know you're not dead would have been nice!" He was shouting now but he couldn't stop. He was on his feet, staring at the grass between them. "I used to matter around here Cora. I used to have use, to be important! And now look at me! All I've done lately is find the freaking bodies!"

The fact that he used her own words against her sparked something in Cora. She rose to her feet and grabbed him by the cheeks, glaring into his eyes. "Now listen to me Stiles and listen good. You will _always_ matter. Do you know how many times you've saved us, all of us? You've saved Derek more than once, Lydia, Scott, Deaton, and me. You've saved all of us. We would all have been dead a long time ago if it wasn't for you. So stop being such a baby."

Stiles stared at her and, as gently as he could, pulled her hand from his face. Her skin was warm to the touch. "You don't get it, Cora. You have Derek. You'll always have Derek. You think I can talk to my dad about this? About how crappy I feel for getting him involved?" He stepped away from her, turning his back.

"Stiles, your dad was going to find out eventually. You can't blame yourself. Speaking of which, where the hell did this self-blaming attitude come from?" She asked, keeping her place behind him. "Stiles. . What happened to you?"

Stiles curled his hands into tight fists and turned to her again, "You know what happened to me, Cora? You want to know what happened? I _died_. I died in Deaton's office and ever since I came back, nothing has felt right. Nothing. I'm angry all the freaking time now! I'm lonely, I can't stand to look at myself! I feel like Derek!"

He ran a hand through his hair, taking long breaths. Cora was staring at him with her mouth slightly open, obviously unable to believe what she was hearing. "I hear voices in my head, Cora. Telling me that I don't belong anywhere, that my friends have all moved on with their lives. And they're right. None of them need me anymore. No one _needs _me."

"Stiles. ." She said, reaching to touch his cheek. And then, like a whip, her open palm cracked across his face. For all her threats about smacking him, punching him and mutilating, she had never once actually hit him. Stiles stumbled a bit, touching the spot where her hand had connected. A buzz of pain emanated from it and his eyes snapped up to glare at her.

"What the hell was that for?!"

"For listening to the voices, Stiles! Whatever is doing that to you, making you believe those insane lies, is wrong!" She shouted, taking a menacing step forward. Stiles instantly stepped back. "No one around here is ever going to stop needing you and you want to know why? You want to know why you, Stiles, are the most important of us? Why your scrawny, hyperactive ass is so damn important?!

"Because we need our human, Stiles. We need you to keep reminding us what it means to be _human_. Haven't you noticed that when one of us slips up, you're always the one to bring us back?! You keep us from becoming monsters, Stiles! So fuck the voices! Fuck them and _fuck you_ for believing them! You are a fucking great man, Stiles, and if you ever doubt that again I swear to God I will put you in one of these graves myself!"

Stiles stood there in a stunned silence as she tried to catch her breath. Cora had that look in her eyes again, daring him to challenge her, to try and tell her she was wrong. But he couldn't. He couldn't fight what she had just said, mainly because it was probably the most words Cora had ever said to him at once and it was definitely the first time she had shared her feelings like that with him.

They stood like that for five minutes, the seconds ticking by in a silence that wouldn't be broken. Because something had happened there, in her tirade. Something had changed between the two of them. Stiles could never look at her as just Derek's sister again, because she was nothing like Derek. Derek wouldn't have listened to him, wouldn't have told him things like that. He wouldn't have bothered.

"You think I'm a great man?" Stiles asked when he finally found his voice. Cora just rolled her eyes and turned her attention back towards the grave.

"Don't let it get to your head, Stilinski."

He stepped up next to her, reaching up and touching the cheek she had slapped. Cora's eyes peeked to it and guilt flashed through them. "Sorry about that. I hit you way harder than I meant to."

"It's fine," He tried to tell her, but she didn't listen. She turned his face to hers and, in a gesture that was far too gentle for her nature, brushed her lips against his cheek. Stiles froze at the sensation of the kiss, but no part of him wanted it gone. The warmth he felt from that kiss numbed the pain until it was nonexistent. He and Cora just stared at each other, eyes never wavering.

"I'm awake," she whispered. Stiles raised an eyebrow at her, confused. She didn't roll her eyes as she spoke. "You said that the next time you put your lips to mine, I better be awake. I'm awake."

"You heard that?" He asked, incredulous.

"People can sometimes hear what's going on around them when they're about to die. So are you going to kiss me or not?"

Stiles thought for a moment and, slowly, nodded. He placed his hands on her hips as their lips met. He could taste the alcohol on hers along with something else, probably her lunch. It did taste a bit like salt. Her lips felt like they were meant for his. They fit so perfectly together and each movement of their lips felt natural. Like it was supposed to happen.

When they pulled away, Stiles felt.. Lighter. He didn't feel as if his heart was being weighed down and the only voice in his head was his own. Cora looked up at him, her eyes slightly glazed, and then something else flickered in them. A hint of mischief and that never bode well for whoever she was with.

"What?" Stiles asked, a slight hint of fear in his voice. Cora pointed behind him and Stiles slowly turned, already knowing what he would see. "Hey, Derek."

"Stiles," came the gruff reply. Derek looked less than pleased. In fact, he looked pissed. Stiles rubbed his head nervously, trying to come up with something to say, but all that came out was a bunch of babble. Cora just rolled her eyes and gave his hand a quick squeeze. Stiles almost jumped. Almost.

"Don't worry Derek, we weren't going to hook up or anything," Cora told him, leaving Stiles' side to walk up to her brother. "I just had to explain some things to him before we left."

"And you did that by kissing him?" Derek asked, incredulous. Cora just shoved his chest and pointed to the parking lot.

"I'll be there in a minute," She said, her voice forceful. Stiles just stood there, silently watching the scene. Derek turned his eyes to Stiles' again and, just to scare the hell out of him, they turned to their blue shade. Stiles gulped nervously and Derek gave him a menacing smirk before walking off. Cora just rolled her eyes and turned back to Stiles. "Now do you see why I don't date?"

"I'm sure all potential boyfriends absolutely adore meeting Derek," He joked and Cora let the tiniest of smiles creep onto her face. Stiles smiled back and, regretfully, had to ask that fateful question. "So you're leaving again?"

Cora sighed and nodded, folding her arms in front of her chest. "Yeah. Derek wants to keep this family road trip going some more. He says he wants to check out Mount Rushmore. Blech." She looked up at Stiles and, upon seeing the dejected look on his face, she held up her phone. "But I promise you I will text you this time."

"You better," Stiles told her. She smiled and, as if in sync, the two stepped towards each other again. They fell into another kiss just as wonderful as the first and twice as long. Stiles definitely felt like he could get used to this but, sadly, he did need to breathe. They broke apart and Cora slowly began the walk back to her car.

Stiles stood there for a moment, watching her as she walked away. When she hit about thirty feet he suddenly shouted out, "Thanks!" to her. She just waved a hand in response and, soon enough, he heard the roar of Derek's car. He watched the headlights vanish down the street and he suddenly had the horrible thought that Derek may have slashed his tires. That would have been a dick move, but not a surprising one.

He turned to look at his mother's grave stone and could almost feel her eyes on him, judging him and laughing at him. "Oh, shut up."

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**A/N: The things my brain comes up with at 5 in the morning. This is my first Stora fic ever and I really hope you guys liked it! Remember, please review, review, review!**


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